The Summons

A text message pops up on your character’s phone in the middle of the night. It reads, “You have 30 days left to live. Use them wisely”

A discrete pip chimed on Trents phone. Flipping it open, he shot a disinterested gaze at it, one eyebrow quivered momentarily. He let out a reluctant huff and pushed himself out of the wicker chair. Dark fluid in the crystal glass he tenuously held slopped dangerously over to one side, however, the thick liquid drew back slowly as the glass righted itself as he stood.

“Macey, your boyfriend is sending me dirty messages again.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” a disembodied voice stung through the jasmine filled night air; punctuated almost immediately afterwards by the clattering of muffin trays onto a steel kitchen sink.

The crickets song fell silent as a group of teenagers shuffled along the sidewalk beside the house; jostling and joking with one another, their innocent souls tantalising the dark denizens of the dying year.

Another synthesised alarm announced the arrival of a message.

“Its yours this time Mace. Wanna take bets its the same message?”

Petite feet tip toed onto the verandah, suds from the washing up glistening in the candle light as they clung to her apron. She wiped her hands dry and stuck an appendage towards Trent silently demanding to see the offending message.

Standing, he saluted her and swallowed half he contents of his glass in one gulp; pointing to her phone on the side table.

Macey studied the identical messages.

“You have 30 days left to live. Use them wisely”

“Damn this technology. I didn’t think he’d have such a good handle on it and find us again so quickly.”

As she studied her screen another message flashed. “I can make it less days if you keep complaining.”

“Thats it? He’s losing his touch.. getting a bit boring in his old age” she began to giggle at her own joke and wiped dark tear drops from her face.

Trent shrugged and slurped noisily at the dregs in his glass. Macy dusted imaginary dust from her apron and folded her hands in front of her.

“Well, we best make plans to ensure we don’t miss anything in the next month then. I thought we’d have at least another year.”

Shrugging again, Trent grunted non committally. “I’m bored anyway. Sports not like it used to be. I think I’ll just sit here and drink for the next thirty days.”

She pushed him half heartedly on the shoulder. “Its not going to come knocking on your door you know; you’ll have to go out and get it.” Macey sternly looked at Trent. “ and no more deliveries.”

Trents phone pipped again, reading it he smirked, “ So The Man suggests we make it to the boardwalk before the fireworks. A lot of lost souls wandering about, willing to commit to any new promise as the new year comes in.”

Macey slowly smiled, her tiny pink tongue flickering between her teeth, the near future playing out deliciously in her mind. Trent stared at his empty glass and refocused on his sister. Her black hair, lustrous and shiny; rippled over her shoulders as she gestured about her. Her checkered apron sat in direct opposition to the tiny leather miniskirt, barely-there corsetry top and thigh high stilletto boots. He still couldn’t get used to the houseproud fetish she’d developed this time and shook his head trying to get the image out of his mind.

“Its not like the old days is it Trent?” Macey untied the strings from around her waist and folded her apron neatly. “ All this technology. I don’t think its made things any better for us. None of this scheduling, being able to be contacted no matter where or what you were doing. No.” she shook her head sadly, “I preferred the immediacy of the summons and dismissals we used to get. Nothing beats the blood soaked pentacle with an explosion of smoke for effect.”

She flicked her hair over tiny pointed ears. “I’m not taking your trash out tonight Trent. You get rid of it properly this time.” Macey delicately stepped over the sprawled motionless figure draped still in his white delivery overcoat; her skirt riding up to expose a detailed tattoo of a dragon wrapped protectively around her upper thigh. It rippled and wriggled with anticipation as Macey stroked it lovingly.

Her red rimmed eyes flashed as she stole a languid glance over her shoulder. “You coming? New Years Eve is always full of unsuspecting souls. Best we feed deeply while we can. Its hard to say when a mortal will summon us again.

Trent grinned “and harder again to say if hell will let us out again.”